Confrontations
by Lady Misaii
Summary: Matthew finds himself invited to catch up with Arthur and Alfred, but decides to go for a different reason. France x Canada
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I honestly don't see enough of this pairing here on fanfiction, and to be honest it's becoming my OTP! Haha. I know it's a little short for a first chapter, but I'll fix it in the upcoming chapters.  
**

-----------

Matthew sighed as he ran his thumb over the letter again, picking at the edges. He had been staring at it for quite some time now, and frankly, he was beginning to forget what was inside the letter rather than how it was folded.

Inside it was simply an address, written some what illegible as if the sender had been in a hurry, onto a piece of crumpled white paper. At the center of the page were bold, brush stroke characters he did not understand.

"It's probably Chinese." He said to himself quietly.

Beneath the characters were most likely the English translation, _'Longevity Springs'_.

Matthew stared at the bottom corner of the paper, where even more illegible writing was found.

_'Hey Mattie! Arthur and I got an invite to this place from Yao! He's got a bunch of these all over the place! It's suppose to be like a life changing experience and after you leave you get all epic and stuff which I don't really think will do much for me, cuz I'm pretty epic to begin with but whatever! Arthur's been a crab lately and me being the great guy I am thought it'd be best if you come too! Y'know, catch up and stuff! See ya there!'_

Alfred's signature had to be the most visible thing on the paper. Above it were drawn stars and what seemed to look like fire works.

Matthew chuckled, "It's Alfred's alright."

He stopped again, realizing the preferred time to arrive was 6:30.

"It's...already 6:00!"

He felt something nuzzle against his feet and looked down.

"K-Kumajirou..."

The polar bear gave him an odd look.

The blonde sighed as he placed the letter aside and picked the bear up into his arms, "One of these days, I promise, you'll remember."

The Canadian leaned his head forward, having his nose brush against Kumajirou's wet one. "What do you think Kumajirou, should I go?"

If he _did_ decide to go, would Alfred even remember he invited him? What if he had invited him without China knowing? Who knows how crowded the place might be; Matthew did not want to be a burden, especially if it had to do with Alfred. And didn't you usually attend hot springs in the nude? He most certainly did _not_ like the idea of being completely naked and vulnerable in front other men. To be frank, he didn't like the idea of being completely naked and vulnerable period.

But...

If Alfred and Arthur were going, then maybe...

"Matthew Williams!" He scolded himself, shoving his now reddened face into his polar bear. "Honestly..."

_'Maybe Francis will be there too...' _

He set his beloved pet down and sat down, his face still hot. He started doing that thing again, with his fingers. Where he'd rub one thumb over the other, thinking explicitly of the infamous womanizer.

"I g-guess...I'll go. I mean, I haven't seen Arthur in a while, and it would be nice to talk a little."

He felt black eyes on him.

"No K-Kumajirou! I am _not_ going to go just to see if Francis is there!" Said a flustered and huffed Matthew.

The bear was still oblivious, unsure why he was yelling, or who he was for that matter.

"It's n-not as if I want to see him! Why would I want to see him n-n-naked?"

Oh _God_. The image crept into his mind again. Rock hard chest and torso, covered in rose petals. Tons of rose petals. Those half lidded, teal colored eyes would blink slow. Painfully slow. He'd let one hand run through his golden locks and let the other curl a finger and gesture it toward him, calling to him in that husky whisper, _"Matthieu, come here, mon chéri_, _I need you."_

The mental image gave him such a chill. He rubbed at his arms and crossed his legs almost involuntarily.

"I need to see him, even if only for a little..." He admitted to feeling a tad pathetic, thinking of the man who raised him and did little to notice him now. Still, Matthew couldn't help this lump of affection he had always kept even after all these years.

"Maybe if I see him I'll-" He paused again when he felt something trickle down his nose.

He let a finger trace down his nostril, and gasped at the sight of blood.

"Oh n-no! Not again!" He screeched, running to his bathroom to stop what was left of the flowing nosebleed.

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**Well that's all I want to write for now~ it's one of my first APH fics. :D**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Finally!~ The new chapter is here, and much longer than the last one. I really want to thank those who actually bothered to subscribe to this, it's very flattering! :D**

-----

Arthur let himself sink into the warm waters shoulder deep, exhaling slowly as he rolled his neck over to the side. This was Heaven. He really needed to get away from all that endless paper work and all those unnecessary conferences; even a majestic country like him needed time to relax. He decided to go in farther deep into the water and bent his knees a little more, having the water rise up to his lips. The boiling water felt oddly relaxing on his face, giving a little warmth to his soul even.

"Heeeeyy Arthurrrr!" Called out a familiar and slightly annoying voice from above him.

The Englishman jolted from his peaceful state and slapped his forehead in disgust. "I forgot I invited this git."

Alfred hovered over him, a big, heroic smile on his face. He was completely naked except for the powder white towel he held in front of his...'statue of liberty'.

After a few seconds of realizing how close he was to receiving a mouthful, a heavy blush stained Arthur's face. "G-GET IN THE TUB YOU IDIOT!"

But Alfred simply cocked his head, somewhat amused at Arthur's expression. "It's not like you haven't seen me naked before." He threw his head back and laughed before jumping into the waters, only to give out a yelp that made Arthur flinch.

"Bollocks, what the hell was that?"

Alfred couldn't sit down. The water was much too hot. He stood up and faced England; who was still sitting down giving him a wonderful view of his impressive anatomy. The American was either too careless or oblivious to figure this out for himself, since he stood there for quite some time.

"It's freakin' hell in here!"

Arthur slammed his palm over his nose in hopes of clogging the blood that was beginning to fall. "Sit down, or GET OUT."

"Whoops." Alfred laughed, finally realizing his awkward position. "Sorry 'bout that, didn't mean to block your sun." He hopped out of the springs and searched for the white towel, wrapping it around his waist. Though he had to admit, any smaller and that piece of cloth would be absolutely pointless. He was pretty epic waist down. All heroes were, so it was no wonder Arthur was on the small side.

Not that he looked or anything.

"You think Matthew's going to come?"

Alfred moved his gaze from Arthur's lower regions, which were still slightly visible through the steamy waters, and looked at him. "Huh what?"

"I swear you get that from Francis..." Arthur growled, shuffling his hands over his legs.

"Of course he's coming! Why wouldn't he?" He beamed in response, bright blue eyes focused only him.

"I don't know," Arthur began, leaning his head back. "I just feel as if...me and you, we don't really...pay attention to the lad much, you know?"

Alfred roared with laughter and shook his head in disbelief. "What gave you that stupid idea? We always pay attention to him."

"Well, I suppose you were the cause of it too, when you were both wee tikes."

Alfred did an impressive job refraining his giggles from the word 'wee' and grinned instead. "What do you mean?"

"You were such a prat when you were younger, always getting into battles you couldn't handle. I, being the more responsible one, kept my eye on you more than I did for Matthew because he was such a quiet and well behaved boy." He smiled, thinking back to such a time.

-----

_"England, England!" _Alfred cried out, covered in cuts and scrapes from head to toe.

_"Look at you, you're covered in bruises!"_ Said a concerned Arthur, scrambling through his drawers for his first aid kit.

A young Matthew walked slowly behind him, a book in hand. _"E-England?" _He whispered, holding out the book for the older nation to see.

_"Ah, that's right...I was suppose to read to you to-"_

_"ENGLAAAAAAND!"_ Alfred screeched, making both Matthew and Arthur cringe. _"CARRY ME!"_ He demanded.

_"Fine, fine."_ He mumbled, raising the boy into his arms and completely forgetting about Matthew, who was on the verge of tears.

_"B-but...England..."_

_"Gracious America, you're bleeding too! Let's go get you some disinfectant for these cuts."_

-----

"Hey, yeah I remember that fight! I was really out numbered..."

"You were. I had to call in reinforcements and everything." Arthur chuckled. Memories like that kept him sane and kept Alfred in his place.

"Ha-_ha_. Funny." Alfred grumbled, dipping one foot into the springs and kicking the water towards him with immense force, pleased when he heard him gurgle in agony.

The two, again, completely forgot who or what they were discussing in the first place.

------

"I am so glad you decided to join us after all, Mr. Williams!"

"I'm very sorry I came on such short notice though," Matthew said quietly. "I'm sure you're very busy."

He wasn't lying one bit on that last statement. The entire building was occupied with shirtless men in towels of all shapes and sizes. The steamy atmosphere was, while somewhat pleasant, still nerve racking. He even saw men that were very much naked, and neither one of them seemed to care that their privates were visible to the world. Maple, it seemed as if they _wanted_ people to gawk and admire their lower parts. Matthew shifted nervously as he nodded at the Chinese man, too caught up in the view to actually understand what he was saying.

"...And I said, more bath houses! We men really do need some time from our daily lives, aru..."

Matthew would occasionally smile and laugh lightly with him, but he was still rather busy keeping an eye out for Francis. With all these men surrounding one another, surely he had to come. Invited or banned, Francis would find a way into things he desired.

"Here you are, Matthew."

He tore his gaze back to Yao, who was had in his hand a faded red towel. It looked fairly small in his arms, but Matthew figured it must have been the way it was folded and accepted it.

He was wrong.

The towel was more like wash cloth; it didn't even cover his knees.

"Y-Yao? I think this...is a little small..." His voice quaked, opening the garment all the way so that he could see. He didn't even think it would go fully around his waist.

"Ah yes, you see, I'm out of regular size towels, so I'm afraid you'll have to use the boy's size aru."

"Oh.. I s-see." He stammered back, forcing a smile.

Yao, however, was not convinced with his response and grabbed his shoulder lightly. "If you prefer, I can give you mine instead, it's no trouble at all, really."

"No! Thank you, thank you, but this will do fine!" He lied, pointing an index finger onto his chest. "It's my f-favorite color! Hahaha..."

Yao took a moment to realize it, and laughed along with him. "Ah it is aru! It is also mine!"

"Heh...so, where are the changing stalls?" Matthew asked.

"Changing stalls?"

Matthew did _not _like the way he repeated him in interrogative form. "You know, where men change and keep their clothes?"

"...We don't own any of those, aru."

Matthew grimaced and slammed a hand onto his chest furiously. "Th-then...where do you change?!"

"Here, of course!" Yao replied blankly.

"W-what?! In f-f-front of every one?!"

Yao leaned his head to the side, clearly confused. Of course in front of everyone, they were only men after all. Surely he wasn't afraid of a little nudity, was he?

Then again, the way he stammered and changed different shades of red said otherwise. He chuckled and said, "Mr. Williams, there are a few private stalls in the back, if you feel you are a little too...nervous."

"N-not at all, I j-just, well, you know...these men are all...I mean, really I-"

"Keep going straight and to your left you'll see a few stalls, though I cannot promise you doors."

"...Thank you, Yao."

"No problem aru!" He said, flashing him another warm smile.

_-----_

Matthew pressed the book tightly against his chest as he watched the two walk away, biting his lower lip and holding back tears.

_"It's n-not fair!" _He wailed.

_"__Matthieu__?"_ A voice called out.

The child turned around, his lip still quivering.

It was France.

Matthew never really spoke to Francis for many reasons. He was usually out with women, other times with men. Matthew was always fond of England because he was always around, always there to talk to, despite the fact that he'd really only talk to Alfred. Francis, on the other hand, didn't speak much to either child, but knew how to cook like a master. England's could put you sick in bed for weeks, and sadly, Matthew knew this from experience.

When Francis cooked for them, however, it always tasted delicious. Alfred would always poke at it teasingly, saying that only real men could stomach England's food and not _his_ 'girlish cooking'. Matthew, however, never complained, and always thanked him whenever he saw him.

_"Matthieu! Mon chéri, why do you weep?" _Francis asked in concern, kneeling down to wipe the boy's tears with his sleeve.

Matthew looked up at him with trembling blue eyes and quivering lips._ "E-England d-didn't read to me again..."_ He managed to say, swallowing the lump in his throat.

Francis felt a pinch of frustration build up inside, but decided to ignore it and pay attention to the little one instead.

_"Do not cry, Matthieu!" _He lifted Canada's chin with two fingers and flashed him a warm smile. _"Here, I shall read to you, mon chaton. Where is your book?"_

Matthew beamed, picking up his book and hiding behind the cover. _"Here it is!"_

Francis leaned in to read the title more closely. _"The Three Little Pigs?"_

_"England use to read this to me before..."_ His voice trailed off at the thought of grinning Alfred.

_"Mon fils, that England is a silly man. I will read you an even better story."_ Francis said, as he lifted the boy into his embrace.

Matthew had never been carried before. The feel of Francis' strong but comfortable grip made his heart skip. So _this_ is what Alfred felt like everyday, the lucky goon. _"Better story? Better than Goldilocks?"_

Francis nuzzled into his hair and nodded, _"Much better, ma coquette, much better."  
_  
A tad convinced but still curious, he persisted. _"What's it called?"_

_"It's called Le Petit Prince,"_ Francis replied. _"It's my favorite."_

Matthew was very unfamiliar with the title, or the language for that matter. _"What's a...pay teet prinsay?_" He asked, making Francis cringe at the way he slaughtered the French pronunciation.

_"Petit Prince,_" He corrected him politely. _"It means Little Prince."_

_"Little Prince?"_ The child repeated softly.

_"Oui."_ Francis nodded with a smile, _"Just like you, Matthieu." _

-------

Matthew sighed as he unbuttoned his pants slowly, letting them drop the floor.

_"Just like you." _The voice was almost painful, the way it echoed back and forth through his mind like damned ping pong game.

"Just like me." He whispered.

He removed his jacket next, becoming careless where it landed. Garment after garment slid off his skin gradually, almost with rhythm. The Canadian sighed as he searched for the red towel he had been given, cursing under his breath. The building was fogging up his glasses and he couldn't see a single thing.

"Looking for _this_, mon ange?"

"Hm? Oh yes, thank-"

_Wait a minute._

_That voice..._  
_  
That accent._

_It just couldn't be._

Matthew rubbed his lenses with his thumb and adjusted his glasses, now being able to see a completely visible (and somewhat naked) Francis.

He stood taller than him, as usual. His golden wavy hair was soaked, still dripping at the ends. He wore what seemed to be navy blue swim shorts, three sizes much too small, just the way Francis like them to be. No shirt, as he could plainly see, and his nipples were clearly hard. Cobalt blue eyes had that lazy and sensual glow, and his cheeks gained a light blush from being in the too long. He watched mindlessly as his chest rose up and down in agonizingly slow breaths.

His admiration was only for a moment, however, since he had remembered he was naked and in front of Francis.

"Fuh...Fuh...Fra-" He choked, lifting a trembling, crooked finger at him.

"I never expected you to be here, mon chouchou~!"

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**A/N: DON'T YOU LOVE CLIFFHANGERS? xD I promised this chapter would be longer, I even added ArthurxAlfred in there for you! The next chapter will most likely be much shorter. Thanks again for reading!**

Translations:

**Chouchou - Pastry, if I'm not mistaken, like sweetie**

**Ange - Angel**

**Mon Fils - My Son**

**Ma Cherie - My Darling**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: OTL I am so sorry for not updating! I really thought this story was a little lame ;_; This longer chapter is for all of you kind people who actually bother reading my story! :D I hope you enjoy it, thank you so much for reading!**

**--------**

"F-Francis, please! I'm n-not decent!" Matthew cried out, struggling in the older man's grasp. The Frenchman had decided that the best time to embrace your favorite son was when he was vulnerable. Or nude. He could deal with both, really.

"Not decent? Allons donc, _Matthieu_ !" Francis loosened his grip and let the Canadian wriggle out of his arms. "I think you're more than decent, mon fils. No wonder you're the second biggest nation in the world! Just look at the size of your-"

"That's n-not what I meant!" He cut him off abruptly, blushing vividly and tying the towel tight around his waist. "Maple, we're naked!"

Francis gave him a puzzled expression and merely shrugged. "So? God gave you a body to flaunt, not hide!" He extended his arms in opposite directions of each other and took a few steps forward, an evil glint in his eyes. "So let papa see the rest of those regions he worked so hard to create~!"

Matthew backed up apprehensively against the wall and began to shake his head vigorously, hoping to hide the rosy tint in his cheeks. "W-wait! Wait!"

Francis obliged almost instantly. He stopped dead in his tracks, so that he was only an inch or two away from Matthew's face, any closer and he could kiss him. Normally, he would have. But something about the tone in his voice made him hesitate. "What is it, mon chaton?"

"I thought you were...in France, you know...meeting with Spain? What are you doing here?" Why he knew that information was beyond him. He didn't take much interest in international affairs, especially if they didn't involve him, that would be rude after all. Yet, when it involved France, he didn't mind listening in on a few details. He had always felt a little disappointed when hearing he had gone to visit some other European neighbor to discuss 'important matters' or 'political views', since he knew a large majority of the people he encountered were fairly attractive, men and women alike. Not that he was jealous of them or anything, just useless information he decided to keep to himself. He also acknowledged the fact that Francis was quite the tease, and being the most romantic and sensual of all the countries, he knew how to keep his title.

"Ah, yes! We were going to talk about a few things, at least, that's what we had planned..." Francis began as he drew in a sigh. "But it seems Romano had a few more...important circumstances to discuss with him. I got bored being all by myself at home and decided to try out this fantastic little spa Yao has set up here!"

Matthew felt a little a distress when Francis mentioned being alone. When Matthew became independent nation of his own, Francis would always stop by and have lunch with him. He'd even help cook sometimes, too. Though he was rather frisky in the kitchen; groping him here and there from time to time, Matthew missed those days where it was just the two of them. How they talked and laughed for hours, until it was time for Francis to leave. As time passed, however, Francis became caught up in his civil obligations and could no longer visit Matthew so frequently. Their lunches became shorter and shorter, and soon Francis stopped visiting him altogether. It was just another bittersweet memory that made his heart sink.

"W-well, you could have always visited...me." He said his last word so quietly, Francis couldn't quite understand him.

"Who?"

"Me. In C-Canada? Like...old times..." His voice trailed off slightly, and he diverted his gaze. He was still blushing, and the steamy atmosphere that surrounded them was of no help to him. 'How embarrassing...I bet he doesn't even remember what he had for breakfast this morning...' He thought to himself, twiddling his thumbs aimlessly behind his back.

"Aww, does mon chou chou miss meee?" He purred, his hands clasped over his heart in delight. "I miss those days, _Matthieu_ I do!"

"You mean, you remember?!" Matthew choked in awe. He would figure Francis, being a man of heavy duties and even heavier wine, wouldn't bother to recall such meaningless times. He was one of the most distinguished and well respected nations after all, and the little moments they shared back then must have erased from his mind some point in his life.

He nodded slowly and faked a frown, acting as if he was a little hurt by Matthew's surprised tone. "But of course I do! How could I forget?"

--------

_"So what are we having for lunch today, __Matthieu __?"_ Francis asked, his chin rested on his fist and his eyes lingering on Matthew in pure adoration.

The younger man gazed over his shoulder to glance at Francis and smiled, _"Tourtière, your favorite!"_

The Frenchman threw his head back in delight, admiring both Matthew's wonderful taste in food and his adorable 'Québécois French', he had called it. He had improved greatly from his younger days, and overtime even developed his own little essence to the French language. It made Francis tingle to know he had raised that beautiful piece of work on his own. He rose from his chair and walked towards him, hands finding their way around his waist. "_Mmm, très bien, sounds delicious."_

The Canadian arched his back and shuddered, causing him to drop the wooden ladle he had held on to earlier. _"F-Francis,"_ He breathed, neck tilting when he felt peach fuzz brush against his shoulders. _"L-let me cook in peace, s'il te plaît!"_

Francis grinned and let a chuckle slip from his lips as he released him. _"Fine, fine."_ He loved how timid the boy was and how innocent he reacted to all of his teasing gestures. He reached down to retreive the timber spoon, only to jolt back up suddenly when he heard Matthew wail.

_"__Matthieu_ _, what's wrong!?"_

_"I...I forgot to buy pork yesterday!"_ He pouted, a palm pressed to his face.

Francis breathed a sigh of relief and smiled. _"Ah, do not worry mon trésor,"_ He cooed, lifting his chin with an index finger. _"Let's cook something new today, oui?"_

_"But I don't have any meat to cook with! Besides, Tourtière is your favorite, I promised you I'd cook you some next time you came to visit!"_

The eagerness in his voice was just too cute, and those pleading eyes were just too much. Francis almost swooned at the sight; the boy's overall sweet appearance made him actually look more appetizing than anything they planned on cooking._ "We'll think of something better!"_

Matthew's sad expression faded into a confused, yet cuter face. _"...Like what?"_

Francis gushed at the sight of his big, curious violet eyes. _"Well. Let's see. You have eggs and cream cheese, non?"_

_"Eh? Eggs and cream cheese, yes."_

_"Flour and milk?"_

_"I think so..._" Was he thinking of baking a cake? For lunch? Francis had a sweet tooth, but certainly he didn't want to spoil his main course, did he? Then again, most cakes didn't have cream cheese in them, french or otherwise.

_"How about raspberries?"_

Matthew tore from his thoughts and shook his head. _"Ah...no, but I have strawberries?"_

Francis beamed, _"Even better! Let's get started then."_

------

"You spoke such beautiful french back then! What happened?" He teased, poking him gently on the nose.

"W-well, you stopped coming...remember?"

"I stopped coming?"

Matthew paused before nodding once. He could feel that same, prickling feeling start to build in his chest. "You got busy with your own things and well, you just...stopped coming."

"I...stopped coming..." He murmured, his once lusty gaze turning into a softer, slightly concerned look. He sighed, took a few steps backward, and held the bridge of his nose. He was much happier then than he was now, what had happened to those golden days? Days that he didn't mind skipping meetings for, days he looked forward too, before he became so vital to the nations that surrounded him.

"It's okay though, really!" Matthew shouted, frightened that he may have hurt his feelings. "I...I had Kumajirou! You had more important things to take care of, I-"

"Nothing should be more important than a man's pride and joy." Francis muttered under his breath, still in disbelief.

"Francis? Are y-"

"_Matthieu_, tell papa the truth..."

"W-what?"

"_Me détestez-vous pour vous quitter?_" He asked softly, his half lidded eyes filling with a sort of sadness that made Matthew uneasy.

"I..." He stopped for a moment, to translate the French in his mind. He hadn't used it in so long, it took him a bit of time to fully take in the sentence.

_'Do you hate me for leaving you?'_

"Of...Of course not!" He hollered in response, slightly shocked at the wave of adrenaline that came over him. "I could..." He paused again, and let his voice fade into it's normal and softer tone. "_Je... je ne pourrais jamais te hais._"

Francis perked up, more than positive he heard an accent in the last bits of his sentence. "_Quoi?_ What?"

"Eh?"

"Matthew," He said frantically, clutching both his shoulders with immense force. "Please, _please_ repeat what you just said."

"I said, I could never-" He was promptly cut off when the older nation pulled him closer. He could feel his nose brush against his own and shuddered. He did his best to hide his sudden fear and felt his cheeks start to burn up again.

"No, say it in French, _s'il te plaît_."

"_Je ne pourrais jamais...te hais_." He whispered back, almost unable to contain himself when he felt their breaths collide.

"Beautiful..." Francis said softly, eyes glazed and lips parted. "Absolutely beautiful."

The Canadian diverted his gaze again, causing his nose to graze against Francis'. "What are y-you talking about?"

"...You're...so cute _Matthieu_!" Francis wailed, apparently reverted back into his normal state, nuzzling his face into Matthew's bare chest.

"Ahaha! F-France! P-please! Hahah!" Matthew cried out helplessly, squirming at the feel of his bristly stubble against his ribs. "Your face...ahahah! D-does not belong thereee ahahaha!"

"_Matthew_?" Uttered a voice from afar. Both men had heard it, and immediately jerked their heads towards the direction it came from.

It was Arthur. In the flesh. Quite literally.

"What the..._FRANCIS_?" The Englishman's confused tone of voice turned into rage when he recognized the other man. "What in God's name are you doing to the boy?!"

Matthew gasped and began to wave his hands dramatically towards Arthur, almost sure he had the wrong idea. "Eh, Arthur, this...this isn't what it looks like, r-really!"

--------

**A/N: Well well, another cliffhanger! Baha. I truly am sorry for not updating, I didn't think people liked this story so much! It made me so happy I just had to add some little flashback fluff in there for you!~ :D I'll try and update more often! Oh, and bonus points for those who can guess what Francis was going to make during the flash back scene!**

**Translations:**

**Allons Donc! - Nonsense!**

**Tourtière – A Quebec delicacy! It's a delicious meat pie.**

**Chouchou - Pastry, if I'm not mistaken, like sweetie  
Chaton - Kitten  
Ange – Angel  
Mon Fils - My Son  
S'il te plaît – Please!**

**"Je ne pourrais jamais te hais." - "I could never hate you."  
Mon trésor – My Treasure**


End file.
